


Jackrabbit Week - Easter 2015

by CleverCorgi



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-05
Updated: 2015-04-12
Packaged: 2018-03-21 11:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 13,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3689808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CleverCorgi/pseuds/CleverCorgi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fills for the Jackrabbit Week - Easter 2015 prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Home

‘ _Home: a shelter that is the usual residence of a person or family.’_

For three hundred years, Jack had no place to call home. His lake, and the small cave nearby where he stored a few personal effects, was hardly befitting of the title. It was more his informal property than anything else, and certainly not a ‘home.’

  
  


‘ _Home: the place in which one’s domestic affections are centered.’_

In some ways, the sky was his ‘home’; it certainly held a great deal of his affection. He immensely enjoyed the time he spent spiraling through the air, spreading snow and frost as he flew hither, thither, and yon.

So too was winter, in part, a ‘home’. His power was strongest there, and he delighted in what he could do with the weather, and the fun he could have.

  
  


‘ _Home: the dwelling place or retreat of an animal.’_

Jack had visited many human dwellings in his time, and quite possibly more animal dens than that. He’d found that each bore the unmistakable signs of being a ‘home’.

Where humans collected knickknacks, furniture, and pictures, animals collected bones, shiny trinkets, bedding, and food. Different lives, to be sure, and yet each saw fit to bring in only the things that they felt would improve their homes, and make them fitting places for their families.

Families gathered in these places, and shared of themselves and were happy.

Jack wondered sometimes what that would be like.

  
  


For three hundred years, Jack had no memories of what ‘home’ was. He knew it in the abstract, and understood the value placed on it by humans and animals alike, but he could never remember a time when he’d felt at home.

Then he regained his memories, and he _ached_ for his past life, where he had a warm bed to crawl into every night, and parents and siblings to spend his days with. A home where he felt welcome and loved, where he felt like he _belonged_.

The other Guardians, his new friends, helped assuage this sense of emptiness, in their own ways, but they lived so far apart, and were all terminally busy, that he couldn’t spend much time with them, together as a group, outside of the semi-regular meetings.

Tooth and Sandy were the busiest, with work that demanded their attention on a near-constant basis, and he could not begrudge them this. North... while he was fatherly, in his own way, and not quite as busy as Tooth and Sandy - except near Christmas, of course - it just didn’t feel quite the same as his memories told him it should. He visited at least once a month, if not more - and even had a bed! - but something had been missing.

It was only, over the course of the next few years, that he came to truly understand what had been missing: someone to share with. His life and his dreams, his worries and his failures, his successes and his triumphs.

Someone who could share his hope, and his joy.

It came as quite the shock, the day Bunny showed Jack the room he’d made for him in his own home. Jack had been overwhelmed by his happiness, and he couldn’t quite understand why; North had given him a room, after all, but it had not garnered even half the emotional response as Bunny’s gift had.

Jack promised himself that he wouldn’t be a nuisance, and would stick to visiting only as often as he visited the North Pole, but that resolution quickly died in the face of Bunny’s hospitality, and the mere prospect of his company.

Once a month became once a week. One day became two, then four. By the time six months had passed, hardly a day went by that Jack didn’t find himself, when he tired, tapping out the rhythm Bunny had taught him. He’d fly through the tunnels, a leaf on the wind, and alight on the windowsill in the kitchen with barely a sound.

Bunny - now Aster (and Jack cherished the trust placed in him to have earned the right to call Aster by his proper name) - would grump about the chill breeze that followed in Jack’s wake for but a moment, and then turn to offer him dinner and company the next. Jack always accepted graciously, and never questioned the warmth that spread through him each night he stayed.

The day Aster confessed his love, Jack discovered what ‘home’ really was.

Home was where the heart lived, and his heart lived with Aster.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Definitions courtesy [dictionary.com](http://dictionary.reference.com/browse/home?r=75&src=ref&ch=dic).


	2. Hunting

Aster wasn't sure when it had started, but it made it a _lot_ easier to look out for their youngest Guardian – in tenure, if not age – when he could sense the sprite whenever he came in contact with the ground. Of course, he had to actually _wait_ for Jack to come in contact with the ground, or at least a tree – and it could be hours between touchdowns, occasionally even _days_ – but he found the mediation soothing, so it wasn’t a hardship.

He also wasn’t sure why he worried about Jack so much. Perhaps it had something to do with how young he looked – despite Jack’s assurances that he’d been on the cusp of eighteen when he’d become a spirit – or the naïve and seemingly-innocent way that Jack viewed the world, but Aster felt a level of responsibility towards him that he didn’t with anyone else. It didn’t sit right with him if he didn’t check in on Jack at least once every other week, if not more often.

Today, Jack was in some remote forest in… Canada. Northern Alberta, or thereabouts; he’d worry about the exact location as he got closer. Ducking into his tunnels, it was only a matter of seconds before he felt his sense of Jack’s location growing stronger – odd that, since the sprite rarely stayed grounded for more than a few seconds unless he was settling in to watch children or sleep, and this didn’t seem like a location for either – and he steered the tunnels towards that sensation.

The tunnel opened into a dense section of boreal forest. The temperature wasn’t _quite_ cold enough to drive him away, but it was close. Given the density of the undergrowth, Aster hopped up into the tree branches above the forest floor. It was slow-going, for him, but still faster than the ground.

Now where was Jack-

Ah!

_What is the crazy larrikin up to now?_

Jack was crouched low to the ground, gently and silently shifting undergrowth about with the butt of his staff, taking slow and measured steps as he moved. While Aster watched, he reached out and touched the damp soil in front of him, nodded to himself, and stepped forward, his feet sinking slightly into the soft earth. After a few more careful steps, he paused and touched the side of a tree. His hand came away with a smear of red.

_Blood?_

Alarmed, Aster moved forward to investigate, but Jack simply wiped his hand off on his trousers and continued on. When Aster moved around to an angle he could see the tree from, he noticed that it had a large smear of blood on it, Jack’s fingerprints embedded in the partially-dried fluid, and a few greenish streaks scattered throughout.

Right. Not Jack’s blood. Someone – or something – else’s. Jack was _tracking_.

_Who?_ More importantly, _why?_

Curious – and not wanting to interrupt a track-in-progress – Aster silently followed Jack while remaining in the tree branches, impressed with the sprite’s tracking technique despite himself; it showed long years of practice. A small knot of guilt tried to form in his gut, but he resolutely pushed it aside.

They’d talked, some, about their shared past, and Jack had told Aster himself that he didn’t blame the Pooka for the bad blood between them. They’d both said and done some harsh things to each other over the last century-and-a-half they’d known each other – or of each other, as it had begun – and Jack had wanted them to start afresh in their new relationship. Aster wasn’t about to let it drop completely, since they needed to work through their issues for real closure, but he had been glad – and still was – that Jack was willing to move forward instead of rehash the past.

And if there was to be any possibility of becoming _more than_ friends, a small part of his mind pointed out, they needed closure. He shushed it reflexively.

Jack stilled suddenly, and Aster found he had to remind himself not to tense up. What was he, a yearling?

Jack’s head tilted in Aster’s direction for a moment, but, before he could wonder if Jack had heard him, Jack’s head snapped to the side and froze. Jack’s shoulders visibly tensed for a moment, and then he relaxed, shifting his stance from that of a tracker to… that of a stalker.

He’d found his prey, whatever it was.

Aster scanned the forest in front of Jack, but saw no signs of monsters or other spirits, so what was Jack following so diligently…?

A hint of movement caught his eye.

Ah. A… deer?

A white-tailed deer - _Odocoileus virginianus dacotensis_ to be precise, if Aster was not mistaken – and a buck, judging by its size, and the typical symmetrical antlers. Its tail was standing stiffly at attention – alarm posture, his mind supplied after a moment – and it was scanning the forest in front of it warily.

It was also wounded, bleeding from a wound on the lower right of its abdomen. The broken haft of an arrow protruded slightly from the tear. Judging from the location, and the blood on the tree, a stomach shot. Ultimately lethal, but a slow and potentially quite painful death.

Bow hunters; must be hunting season up here. This buck appeared to have escaped its human pursuers, but why was Jack stalking it now?

Aster got his answer a moment later, after the buck calmed enough that its tail drooped.

Jack crept forward slowly, silently, right hand outstretched.

Ten feet.

Five feet.

Three.

One.

Jack paused. The buck sniffed the air even as it staggered slightly from the pain, but it was a fruitless gesture; Jack was downwind.

The buck made to start traveling again, and that was when Jack struck. He leaned forward the final distance and touched the buck’s flank. It startled, and began to kick its legs backwards – and then simply _stopped_. After a moment, it sank to its knees, and then flopped on its side.

It quit breathing a minute later.

Aster didn’t have time to wonder what Jack had done, because in the next moment, he had to fling himself out of the tree and down to the forest floor. Jack had spun on the spot and fired a blast of his frost at the spot the Pooka had been hiding in.

“Bunny?” Jack exclaimed several seconds later, when he stopped gaping. Standing, the sprite leaned against his staff, cheeks faintly tinted and dusted with frost. “What- why are you following me? How’d you even _find_ me?”

Dusting himself off, Aster loped over to within arm’s reach of Jack, and then settled on his haunches.

“I came to check up on you, mate. Was worried something might be wrong, since you were sticking around one place for so long,” he said easily, eyes darting between Jack and the definitely deceased deer.

Jack noticed his glances. “It’s dead, Bunny.”

“Yeah, I can see that, Jackie. Did you…?”

Jack shrugged awkwardly and glanced to the side. “Yeah. It was in pain, and, well…”

Aster frowned and gestured at the buck. “How’d you do it?”

Jack glanced at him through the fringe of his hair and bit his lip for a long moment.

“Induced, rapid-onset hypothermia,” he said softly.

Aster nodded thoughtfully, which appeared to not be the reaction Jack had expected, because he was openly staring. “It was a mercy, to be sure. Died in his sleep rather than suffer.”

Jack winced. “Well, that wasn’t the only reason.” He gestured at his pants. “These have nearly worn out, and I needed to replace them.”

He blinked. “You could’ve just asked North or myself to make you new pants, Frostbite.”

Jack pulled out a length of rope from his hoodie pocket and turned to begin tying the deer’s feet together.

“Yeah, I know. It’s just… I’ve always done it this way, ever since… ever since I was human. My da taught me that, if we needed new clothes, we hunted out our supplies.” Finished with the rope, Jack carefully weaved his staff between the buck’s hooves. “I’ll be taking this deer back to my makeshift camp about a mile away, and set about dressing it and taking what I need. I’ll leave the rest for the forest to reclaim.”

Aster opened his mouth to respond, but gaped instead when Jack swung the deer – which had to weigh at least a hundred pounds – up across his shoulders as if weighed no more than the staff he was using to carry it.

“And besides, it’s part of my job, as a winter spirit, to cull the weak and the sick,” he continued, before looking over at Aster. He quirked an eyebrow at the Pooka’s expression. “What?”

“I- nothing.” Jack eyed him doubtfully, and he cleared his throat. “I just hadn’t realized you were that strong.”

Jack’s cheeks tinted a darker shade, and frost grew over them in a thicker layer than the last time.

Huh. Jack Frost blushed frost. Who knew?

Seeming to take that as the end of the conversation, Jack began to trudge back the way he’d come.

“Jack, wait.”

The sprite paused, but didn’t turn around immediately.

Aster took a deep breath. “You don’t need to do that out here, you know. I’ve… I’ve got a full tannery set up down in the Warren, and all the tools you’d need to dress that buck proper. If… if you’d like to come back with me, that is?”

Jack turned around and gazed at him for several seconds, before a shy grin spread across his face.

Aster’s stomach fluttered in response.

“Yeah. I… I think I’d like that.”


	3. Healing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's a tad late, but I didn't get the idea for it until late Monday night. Enjoy!

One minute, Jack had been sitting next to a six-foot-one badass warrior-rabbit-kangaroo-Aussie.

The next – and one sharp bank and a barrel roll to the left from North’s sleigh – Jack found himself juggling a small, flailing bundle of fur.

Wait. Scratch that.

_Mini-Bunny?_

“Strewth North! Did you _have_ to give me a heart attack?” the rabbit – mini-Bunny for sure – shouted from Jack’s grasp.

North laughed and rolled to the right, either not hearing or not caring for what Bunny had said. Jack found himself scrambling to hang onto the mini-Kangaroo-bun as Bunny flailed about in a panic. Finally getting a good grip on him, he shoved mini-Bunny into his hood and pulled it up over his head, holding it in place and trapping the rabbit between his head and the fabric.

Bunny seemed to calm down almost at once, though he was shuddering slightly.

“You really don’t like to fly, do you Cottontail?” Jack asked.

He got a swat to the ear and a grumped “No” for his efforts.

“Why are you suddenly small, anyway? I thought we’d just fixed that, what with kicking Pitch’s ass and all?”

Silence for several heartbeats. “Can it wait until we have nice, solid, _safe_ ground under our feet again?”

Jack started to nod, but Bunny swatted his head again. Oh, right. Right. “Sorry.”

North seemed to be taking the scenic route back to the Pole, because he hadn’t bothered with a snow globe yet, and they’d been flying for at least ten minutes. Jack felt Bunny relax against the back of his head and – wait, was that faint sound _snoring_?

“Um… Tooth?”

She turned around and gazed at Jack inquiringly, though a frown flit across her face a moment later. “Where’s Bunny?”

“Uh… in my hood?” She blinked. “Is he, ah… asleep?”

She gently peeled back the edge of the hood and gasped. “He _is_. Oh my goodness, that is so precious- wait, why’s he small again?”

Jack started to shrug, but caught himself before he dislodged Bunny. “I dunno. He said he’d explain when we landed?”

She nodded. “He’s probably tired. I think we all are, to be honest; having your belief go up and down drastically can be very draining.”

Jack thought about that for a second, and then said, tone thoughtful, “I’m feeling rather… invigorated.”

Tooth smiled. “Expected; an influx of believers will do that.”

Jack grinned. “Cool.” He paused, and then added, “Hey, could you get North to hurry up and get back to the Pole? I’m a little worried about Bunny.”

Tooth smiled mysteriously, but nodded, and turned around to address the crazy Cossack.

In short order, they were through a portal and landing at the Workshop. Jack tried to jostle Bunny awake, but he was out cold. Jack snorted at that mental phrasing, but brushed it aside. Now wasn’t the time for humor.

He carefully pulled Bunny’s sleeping form out of his hood and cradled him like a small child in his arms.

“Jack!” North boomed.

Tooth smacked him upside the back of the head and shushed him.

Bunny stirred – and rolled over, snuffled against Jack’s chest, and remained asleep.

“Oh my god, Tooth,” Jack whispered. “He’s too cute.”

Sandy tinkled off to the side. Jack glanced over, and the little guy flit a few images – small rabbit, sleeping; a carrot appearing nearby; sleeping-rabbit’s nose twitches; he wakes up and eats the carrot.

Jack and Tooth giggled. He turned to North. “Got any carrots?”

North smiled brightly. “Better. Bunny’s favorite: carrot cake.”

Tooth glared. “North, no-“

North brushed her off. “North, _yes_ , you mean.” He turned to an elf. “Dingle!”

Tooth smacked him upside the head again.

Quieter, North instructed the elf to bring a slice of – _unchewed_ – carrot cake to the study. North then led the way to the aforementioned room, though Jack caught him arm outside the door.

“North? I think it might be better if just one of us was with him. I think he might find it embarrassing that he fell asleep.”

Tooth and Sandy shared a look, and then Tooth snagged North’s coat sleeve. “Come on, North. We can go celebrate while Jack takes care of Bunny.”

“But-“

“Vodka.”

“… da. You are right.”

She nodded smartly. “Of course I am.”

The other Guardians wandered off, leaving Jack alone with the sleeping rabbit in his arms. He quietly pushed into the room with his shoulder, and gently kicked the door closed before passing his staff from where it dangled loosely in his hand to his foot and placing it in the umbrella stand – why did North even _have_ one in this place? – next to the door.

The room was fairly well-appointed, lacking the usual Christmas theme to the decorations, having been done instead in a tasteful mixture of deep reds and dark woods. There was a fireplace merrily warming the room, in addition to a few lights scattered about, giving the room a soothing and cozy atmosphere. The sofa and twin armchairs that sat opposite the fireplace encompassed a coffee table done in the same dark wood as the rest of the room; there were bookcases scattered along the walls, littered with books and knickknacks in no semblance of order.

The aforementioned carrot cake was sitting innocently in the middle of the coffee table, along with a porcelain teapot and cups. Jack grinned, amused despite himself: one of the teacups was child-sized.

Jack snagged a pillow off the sofa with his foot and gently placed it on the coffee table. He then carefully laid Bunny atop it, arranging him in what he hoped was a comfortable position. Quietly sliding the slice of cake over towards Bunny’s sleeping form, until it was within a few inches of his face, Jack poured himself a cup of tea and settled in to wait.

Jack didn’t have to wait long; after a few minutes, Bunny’s nose began to twitch. Less than a minute later, his eyes blearily cracked open – and then shot wide as he literally _pounced_ on the slice of cake and began consuming it like a man possessed – or starving.

Or half-awake, Jack supposed.

Jack stifled a giggle, not wanting to interrupt the hilarious scene in front of him.

It took Bunny a good minute to realize he was stuffing his face with his paws, freezing in place, one paw halfway to his mouth. Jack couldn’t suppress the giggle that issued forth that time, and Bunny’s ears twitched towards him. His head slowly turned towards Jack, eyes wide and ears immediately dropping in embarrassment.

He dropped the fistful of cake and scrambled around for a napkin. Jack helpfully presented one. After a moment’s hesitation, Bunny took it and cleaned himself up.

Biting his lip to keep from laughing, Jack offered him a fork, sized for a child, and asked, “Would you like some tea with your cake?”

A long pause, followed by curt, “Yes.”

Jack prepared a steaming cup and pushed the saucer towards Bunny.

After taking a tentative sip, he asked, “Where are the others?”

“I sent them away; I didn’t think you’d want to embarrass yourself in front of everyone.”

“But you stayed,” he said flatly.

Jack smirked. “Of course! I thought it would be hilarious!” Bunny glared at him; Jack held up his hands. “Hey, it was Sandy’s idea.”

Bunny frowned, and took another sip of tea before he muttered crossly, “Of course it was. Ruddy little traitor.”

Jack waved it off. “But no, seriously, Bunny. I’m worried about you. You’re small again. I thought we’d fixed that?”

“We did,” he confirmed.

Jack frowned, gesturing helplessly. “Then why-”

“Because I’m _completely exhausted_ , Frostbite. Physically, mentally, magically; even my belief-base is wobbly at the moment.”

“So…” Jack said slowly. “You became small again because…?”

Bunny crossed his arms across his chest and huffed soundlessly.

Was… was Bunny _pouting?_

He sighed after a minute, glanced away from Jack, and mumbled, “Energy conservation.”

Jack reflected on the idea for a moment, and then nodded thoughtfully. “I suppose that makes sense.”

And then went back to sipping his tea and watching Bunny for a reaction.

Bunny stared at him, surprise coloring his features.

Jack quirked an eyebrow after several minutes of mutual staring. Bunny’s ears dropped in embarrassment and he glanced to the side.

“Why aren’t you making fun of me?” he asked softly.

“Because that would be mean?” Jack said. Bunny turned and blinked at Jack in confusion. “I’m not _mean_ , Bunny.”

It was the rabbit’s turn to quirk an eye at Jack, this time in doubt.

“At least, not on purpose, and not to my friends.” He paused, and then added bitterly, “I mean, that’s what I’d do if I had any friends.”

Bunny gaped at him for a few seconds, before shaking himself visibly and opening his mouth to speak. Jack cut him off.

“Anyway, enough about me. What do we need to do to fix you?”

The rabbit mouthed wordlessly for a moment, and then said, “Time’s all I need, Frostbite. I’m not exactly sure how much – it’ll be at least a few months – but the longer I stay small, the quicker it’ll be.”

Jack studied him for a minute. “Your home is awfully big, Kangaroo-”

“Oi!” he objected immediately to the nickname, as expected, but Jack pushed on.

“And I think you might need some help taking care of it while you’re small-”

“I don’t-”

“And I want to help.”

“Wot?”

Jack shifted and averted his eyes, a faint blush tinging his cheeks with a thin layer of frost. “If you’ll have me, that is.”

The silence stretched on long enough that Jack thought he had his answer.

“Nevermind,” he said, putting the cup down and moving to leave. “I’ll just… I’ll just go.”

As he reached for his staff, a small voice behind him said, “Don’t go.”

Jack paused, but didn’t turn around.

“I… fair enough, mate.”

He turned around. “What?”

Bunny smiled softly. “I should give you a fair go, so I will. I’ve misjudged you in the past, and I’m sorry for that. Of course I’ll accept your help.”

Jack returned the smile, bright and happy.

 

~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Aster woke slowly. He was warm, and content, and didn’t really feel like moving, snuggled up beneath the covers as he was, but after what felt like hours – but was probably more like half of one – of drowsing, his mind finally caught up to him and reminded him that he had cleaning to do.

It was post-Easter, after all, and the Warren was likely still a mess. More so this year than before, since the tunnels were littered with eggshells and other debris, which… he wasn’t going to think about right now.

Not to mention the mess he usually left in his burrow in the lead-up to Easter, since he never took the time to clean up after himself when Easter prep was in full-swing. There was a _reason_ he’d fashioned over a month’s worth of flatware, cups, and utensils yonks back.

Well, that, and he broke them regularly.

Opening his eyes and crawling out from beneath the pile of blankets he’d burrowed under, it took him a moment to register that he was looking at the bottom drawer of his dresser, rather than the mirror above it.

Oh. Right. He was small for the time being.

Putting that aside for now, he made his way slowly out of the bedroom, yawning and scratching behind his right ear. He stumbled into the wall next to the library door a moment later, having tripped over his own two feet in his grogginess.

Humming to himself, he murmured, “Maybe a cuppa first.”

Shuffling into the kitchen and making his way over to the counter, it took him a few seconds to register the scent of fresh, hot coffee wafting down from above.

It took him a few more to register that the kitchen was _spotless_.

Surprised into wakefulness, he hopped back out into the living area opposite the kitchen door. Also spotless, as was the hallway.

“What the…?”

Jack’s head popped out of the library, a snowflake-decorated bandana wrapped around his head and keeping his hair out of his face.

“Bunny! You’re awake!” he exclaimed, stepping further out of the library. He was wearing an apron, of all things, and carrying a feather duster in one hand and a rag in another. “Want some coffee?”

Dumbfounded as he was by the incongruous image Jack presented, he still managed to nod.

“Great!” Jack said, bustling past him and setting the tools on a side table in passing. “Have a seat, I’ll get you a cup. Cream, sugar, black…? Or would you prefer an espresso?”

After a moment, Bunny numbly hopped up onto a chair, and then up on the table proper; he wasn’t quite tall enough to see over the edge of the table in this form.

“Bunny?” Jack prompted after a moment, his back still turned as he busied himself with the coffee maker.

“Oh, uh. Right. Um… do you know how to make a Flat White?”

Jack nodded, and prepared the cup. “I’ve got to be honest, Bunny, I’m kind of surprised you’ve got an espresso maker down here. Though I suppose it makes sense, since Australia is espresso-crazy.”

He shrugged, even though Jack couldn’t see it. “I’ve gotten used to it, and it’s easier than doing it by hand.”

Jack came over to the table and presented Aster with the cup. “Here you go, Cottontail.”

“Uh, thanks.”

There was a fern in the coffee. Jack could do coffee art. Who knew?

“Nice fern, Frostbite,” he said dryly. “Calling me a Kiwi now, are you?”

Jack grinned at him, unrepentant.

Shaking his head, he tentatively took a sip. It was just the right temperature. Which… odd, that; it usually took a bit to cool down proper. Seeing his expression, Jack grinned.

“I figured you’d not want it quite as hot as it came out, so I fiddled with the temperature a bit. Is it…?”

Aster found himself smiling softly. “Perfect, Jackie. Thanks.”

Jack beamed at him and settled in one of the other chairs. He took another few sips of his coffee before speaking again.

“Frostbite?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s with the outfit?”

Jack laughed and picked at the apron. “Oh, this? I’ve been cleaning! Speaking of which, you really need to clean the library more often; your dust bunnies have little dust bunnies of their own.”

He blinked at Jack as he drank more coffee. Once he felt more alert, he asked simply, “Why?”

Jack shrugged. “You were sleeping, I was bored, and this place was a mess. Is it like this all the time, or only around Easter?”

“Easter; I don’t take the time to clean. Too busy.”

Jack hummed thoughtfully and nodded. “I guess that makes sense. Maybe next year, I can drop by occasionally to keep the place clean for you?”

Aster stared at him.

“What? Have I got something on my face?” Jack wiped at his cheek, but only succeeded in adding a slight dust mark, rather than removing anything.

“Huh? No, no. I’m just… surprised you’d offer, is all. We’ve not exactly been on the best of terms.”

Jack shrugged again, and glanced away, looking pained. “I was hoping to change that.”

Aster set his cup down, and scooted closer to Jack, placing a paw on his arm. “Hey, hey. No reason to be upset. I said last night I was wrong in the past, and I meant it. I’d… I’d like that, if you helped.”

Jack smiled at him again, though he frowned a moment later. “That was a week ago.”

He cocked his head. “Was it?”

Jack nodded. “I was getting worried.”

Aster shrugged. “It happens. I always sleep funny right after Easter; a week is pretty average.” He hopped back over to his coffee. “Once I finish this, we should get on cleaning up the tunnels and fields.”

Aster took a sip, which is why he wasn’t prepared for Jack to say, “I already did that.”

He was entirely justified in doing a spit-take. For a split-second, he thought he was about to cover Jack in hot coffee, but then Jack flicked his hand and the droplets froze in mid-air, clattering to the table’s surface.

He stared at them for a moment. “Impressive.”

Jack grinned. “Thanks.”

As Jack cleaned up the now-frozen coffee, Aster finished his cup, which Jack snagged in passing the moment he set it down. He fidgeted briefly while Jack put things in the sink.

“So you cleaned up everything?” Jack nodded. “Not that I don’t believe you, Frostbite, but I need to see this.”

He nodded again, and gestured out the window. “Feel free. I’m going to finish up in the library.”

Aster made his way outside, and ran around the Warren, stretching his legs as much as touring the place quickly. Jack hadn’t been stretching the truth in the least, he found; the place was as spotless as a mixed meadow-and-forest landscape should be. The remains of the googies were sorted into the compost heap, which was teetering at its newfound height, but there was nothing for it.

Jack had even _weeded_.

Maybe Jack wasn’t as bad as he’d originally thought?

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

 

Jack was the worst thing to have ever happened to the Warren, of that Aster was sure.

It was like the Warren was _conspiring_ against him! The few googies that always seemed to be about the place followed Jack around like lost puppies, wanting nothing more than to play with him day-in and day-out. the guardian statues simply _ignored_ his antics, no matter what Aster said to them. Even the semi-sentient _plants_ seemed to have taken a shine to the spirit.

He felt like he was losing control of his home, and yet, Jack hadn’t done anything overtly disruptive! He’d only even played the simplest of pranks, and certainly nothing for Aster to get all up in a bother over.

They’d even been kind of funny, in hindsight. Not that he was going to tell Jack that.

The worst part was that the various inhabitants of the Warren seemingly ignoring him in favor of Jack. Just because he was the size of a large earth-rabbit didn’t mean he wasn’t still the _Easter Bunny!_

It wasn’t _fair_.

Aster was pouting, and he knew it. He just didn’t care.

He was also being overly dramatic, and he knew that too.

He’d just never seen _his_ Warren respond to anyone else so… so… _joyfully_.

Even now, he was watching from a hillside as Jack played with one of the stone guardians and the aforementioned googies down in the valley below.

Still…

Jack had proved eminently useful in the month since Easter, of that there was no doubt; he wasn’t sure he could have quite managed everything without the sprite’s help. he was just flabbergasted that the Warren itself seemed to have adopted him wholesale.

Aster was used to being a hermit, alone in his wide-open fields and meadows. To have someone around all the time was disquieting, at times.

He sighed, and flopped onto his side.

It was also kind of… nice.

He’d forgotten what not being alone was like.

  
  


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_Jack is the best thing to happen to the Warren in a long time_ , Aster mused, purring contentedly as Jack stroked and pet his tiny body.

He’d just had a bath - having accidentally gotten a pail of paint dumped on him - and Jack had gone from drying him with a towel to simply brushing through his fur with his cool hands.

It was nice.

Over two months had passed since Easter, and he’d had to revise his opinion of Jack at least a half-dozen times, if not more. Every day, it seemed that the sprite found a new way to surprise him, from how well he cleaned to how well he played chess. Jack was even a fair hand at art - not totally a surprise, considering his habit of playing with frost patterns when bored - and was able to hold intelligent discourse on the subject.

His stomach had also taken to doing gymnastics whenever Jack did certain innocuous things, like bending over, or picking up objects with his feet instead of his hands. It was very… distracting.

If he didn’t know any better, he’d say he was growing overly fond of Jack. And not in a platonic sen-

Jack picked him up abruptly, and spun him around. And then the world tilted.

“Oi!” Aster protested.

“Keep your fur on, Cottontail, I’m just laying down. I’m a bit tired, myself.” Jack yawned. “Thinking of taking a nap.”

He settled Aster on his chest, and continued stroking his sides idly with his fingers. The motions got slower, and slower, as Jack started to drowse, ceasing completely a moment later.

Which…

Aster yawned himself.

A nap sounded like a good idea, actually….

  
  


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Jack woke surrounded in warmth.

It wasn’t stifling, like that one time he’d fallen asleep overnight in a jungle and woken to the damp, humid, oppressive heat of the day; quite the contrary, it made him feel cozy and drowsy, even though he’d just awoken. He tried to shift, and found he could not.

A furry arm was holding him against a furry chest.

“What…?” he murmured, and opened his eyes.

Oh.

Bunny was big again.

They were spooning on the soft ground, Bunny’s arm draped over Jack and holding him tightly to his chest. Jack could feel him snuffling gently against his hair. It tickled, but not in a bad way.

Jack pushed gently against the arm holding him down, and managed to move it a couple inches. There, now he could shift to a more comfortable position-

Something long, warm, hard, and slightly damp pressed against the small of his back where his hoodie had ridden up. Jack blinked several times, confused in his half-awake state, and reached behind him to figure out what it was… tapered, and went back to Bunny’s stomach-

Oh. _Oh_.

Jack pulled his hand away like he’d been burned.

“Okay. I’m awake _now_.”

Apparently giant space rabbits _also_ got morning wood.

Deciding to try to save Bunny any embarrassment, Jack tried to shift around enough that he could disentangle them and escape before the rabbit woke up.

All he succeeded in doing was rubbing Bunny’s cock against his back and waking Bunny up.

Jack glanced up sheepishly, a frosty blush staining his cheeks. “Um… hi?”

Bunny blinked at him several times in confusion, and then rotated Jack in his embrace for some unfathomable reason - possibly assuming in his own befuddled and half-awake state that that was what Jack was trying to do.

Which was how Jack discovered he was also hard, when their cocks, one free and the other clothed, bumped into each other.

And judging from the way Bunny’s befuddled expression cleared into one of embarrassed shock, he’d realized it too.

Jack did expect Bunny’s frown a moment later, but not the sniff to his hair.

“Bunny, what…?”

The rabbit blinked at him a few times, looking like he’d been bludgeoned upside the head.

“Bunny?” Jack asked again, still acutely aware of their compromising positions.

“I guess that explains a few things.”

“... I don’t follow.”

Bunny sighed, and shifted them to a sitting position. Notably, Jack was straddling his lap, and they were still pressed together pretty intimately. For the life of him, Jack couldn’t find it in him to object, but he was still very confused.

“I don’t suppose I’m going to be allowed to move our morning woods away from each other anytime soon?” Jack queried after a moment of being peered at.

“Pooka don’t get morning wood.”

It was Jack’s turn to blink in confusion. “Pooka?”

“That’s what I am.” Bunny huffed. “Didn’t you listen to what I told you the other day?”

“Giant space rabbit,” Jack noted absently, distracted despite himself.

He rolled his eyes. “Of course all you’d remember is ‘alien’. Pooka is what my species is called.”

“Oh. Right, right,” Jack murmured. He blinked. “Wait, don’t get morning wood?”

“Nope.”

Figuring ‘what the hell?’, Jack shifted his hips slightly for emphasis. “Then what’s this?”

Bunny at least had the decency to do his equivalent of blushing as his ears dropped. “... means you smell nice.”

Jack blinked again. “I _smell_ …?”

“... I find you attractive.” Bunny sighed, and added, “And I like you.”

“Oh” was all Jack could think to say.

Though… Bunny was the closest thing he had to a best friend, at this point. He’d loved the time they’d spent together these past two months. Curious, he idly traced a finger over Bunny’s chest.

Oooh. Muscles. That was… nice. Nice was a good word.

He could work with this.

“Okay.”

Bunny blinked. “Okay?”

“Okay, I think I’m willing to try?”

Bunny blinked at him again in confusion.

“Silly rabbit,” Jack tsked, and grabbed Bunny’s cock with one hand.

“Oh!”

Jack let go. “Yeah, ‘oh’. Jeez, how thick can you be?”

“Oi!” Bunny exclaimed, and pushed Jack off his lap.

Jack flopped on his back. Bunny loomed over him a moment later.

He shivered. In this new light, it was kind of… enticing.

“I didn’t expect this,” he admitted.

“I didn’t either,” Bunny agreed. “I guess the time I spent recovering from Easter gave us enough time to… come to appreciate each other better.”

Jack thought about it, and nodded. “Yeah.” He grinned impishly. “Whatcha gonna do about it?”

Bunny’s smirk turned a bit feral - Jack’s stomach butterflied, and okay, definitely attracted. A surprisingly turn of events, but not unwelcome.

“I can think of a thing or two,” he promised, and kissed Jack.

Whoa. If two months rehabilitating a sick space rabbit earned Jack _this_ , he wondered idly, what would _years_?

Jack decided then and there he’d like to find out.

It sounded _fun_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll hopefully have the next entry ready before midnight, my time.


	4. High

Jack had learned several things in the past twenty-four hours about the Easter Bunny.

One, he was an alien.

Like, _literally_ a space alien. From another planet.

‘Nanu-Nanu!’ and all that.

They were called ‘Pooka’ apparently. Bunny’s species, that is.

His newfound friend - who was also kind of a rival? But not at the same time… _it was complicated, okay?_ \- was a giant space alien rabbit-kangaroo.

Two, Bunny was _old_.

Not like Pyramids old, or humans-discovering-fire old, or dinosaur old.

Like, _Earth_ old.

Bunny was _literally older than dirt._

It kind of blew Jack’s mind a little every time he thought about it.

Although he had to admit, Bunny still looked quite fit for someone his age-

No. Bad Jack. Right, moving on.

Three, chocolate did funny things to him. Grow four extra arms and gain over a foot of height kind of funny things.

Jack really wanted to see that.

An extremely final-sounding “No” had been the only response so far.

Four, alcohol didn’t affect Bunny the same way it did everyone else on Earth.

Which, okay. Makes sense. _Alien_.

Bunny admitted to having tried to get drunk once. Three large kegs of hard liquor later, he’d felt a mild buzz. North had been alarmed at the volume and worried for Bunny’s health, so they’d ended the experiment and decided he just couldn’t get drunk on any reasonably safe amount of liquor.

Jack, in a spark of brilliance or madness - he wasn’t entirely sure yet - had decided he really, _really_ wanted to see what chocolate did. Bunny had indicated that it only transformed him - more or less without any discomfort, so ‘woo’ there, Jack guessed - and didn’t do anything else, so he formulated a plan to be executed that very evening at the small party North was hosting.

He’d laced Bunny’s alcohol-of-choice with a small amount of liquified dark chocolate. Bunny would never notice, Jack figured, because he liked his alcohol sweetened to such an extent that Tooth always eyed him disapprovingly across the room when she even looked at the keg Bunny was sitting on.

Only, Jack hadn’t quite counted on less than an ounce of eighty percent dark chocolate having quite this effect.

Sad news, Bunny hadn’t transformed. At all. Apparently it took more chocolate than that.

Good news, he’d inadvertently figured out a way for Bunny to get drunk.

Bad news, Bunny was drunk. _So drunk_.

Jack felt it was his responsibility to take care of his friend - and apologize when he was completely sober and preferably on the other side of the Workshop, so Jack would have a running start - which was how he found himself half-guiding, half-carrying a very sloshed Easter Kangaroo down a private hallway on one of the upper floors of the Workshop.

North had agreed it best for them to slip away to a secluded area for Bunny to recover. He’d even provided Jack a private lift key. So that was something, at least.

However, North had neglected to mention most of the doors were _locked_.

Jack spent a good twenty minutes, by his estimation, practically dragging Bunny around and checking doorknobs until he found one that turned.

“Finally!” he exclaimed, kicking it open.

Bunny roused from his drowsing.

“Whazzit? Oh, hiiii Jack,”he slurred. And then nuzzled Jack’s neck.

Jack stiffened. “Um. Hi Bun-bun. I’ve brought you to-” He glanced around the room. Ah. Perfect. “A bed. Would you like a bed?”

Bunny perked up - well, as much as a drunken rabbit could perk up - and said, in the slow measured pace of someone truly drunk off their ass, “Oooooh. Bed. Beeeed. Funny word, bed. But... I have a bed?”

If Jack hadn’t been half-crushed by Bunny’s weight being all on one shoulder, he’d have laughed at the adorably confused expression that cross the lagomorph’s face.

“Not your bed,” Jack agreed, gently guiding Bunny into the room and kicking the door closed. “But _a_ bed. Would you like to lay down?”

A serious expression flit across Bunny’s face for several seconds - Jack had to choke back a laugh - before he nodded in the emphatically over-exuberant way of drunks.

“Bed. Beeeed. Yes.” He paused and scrunched up his nose. “Es. Esss. _Sssss_. S’funny sound.”

“Wow Bunny, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost think you were drunk _and_ high.”

Jack removed his staff from where he’d hung it on Bunny’s bandolier and tossed it over on the nearby couch before he maneuvered Bunny over to the bed. He managed to get the pooka to sit without falling over long enough to pull the bandolier over his head. There was a soft ‘whump’ behind him when he turned around to set it on a nearby chair.

He turned around to find Bunny flopped bonelessly on the bed, feet splayed off the edge haphazardly. It was rather cute.

Also convenient. Jack knelt down and carefully placed one footpaw in his lap and began to undo the bindings. On the one hand, he felt kind of… weird, undressing Bunny like this. On the other, Jack figured it would be more comfortable to not have the hardened leather binding his body while he slept.

On yet another hand - Jack had given up ages ago on the anatomical impossibility of how many hands of thought he generated - he lamented that it wasn’t under completely different, and mutually beneficial, circumstances that he was doing this, because there were _things_ he wanted to do to those feet and-

No. Bad Jack. No biscuits, Bunny, chocolate, or alcohol for you.

Shaking his head at his wandering mind, Jack finished removing the foot-bindings and moved up to undo the ties on the bracers. Bunny was supremely unhelpful in this endeavor, but he eventually managed to remove both of them.

Seeing Bunny without anything on at all did funny things to Jack’s stomach, but he resolutely ignored it in favor of shifting the pooka around on the bed until he was positioned more or less correctly. He was slightly taller than the bed was long, unfortunately, so his feet hung over the edge a bit.

In the state he was in, Jack didn’t think Bunny would mind, but he still retrieved a blanket from the wardrobe and tucked him in. Just in case he got cold.

With Jack around, that could easily happen by accident.

“Jack?”

“Yes, Bunny?”

“Are… are y-you-” Bunny murmured, pausing for a moment to grumble at his tongue to ‘behave’, “Tucking me in?”

“Yes. Is that… a problem?”

Several seconds of silence. Lazy shake of his head.

“Good, good. I’m just going to be over on the couch. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” Jack said softly, patting Bunny on the head and scritching behind one ear for a moment.

Bunny hummed contentedly and snuggled in. “‘Kay.”

To avoid dying from adorableness overload, Jack quietly, if hastily, made his way over to the couch, after selecting a book off one of the seemingly ubiquitous bookshelves - the Workshop had one in every single room, from what Jack had explored so far - at random and settling in to keep watch.

His prank gone awry, after all, so his responsibility to take care of his friend.

Twenty-some-odd pages into what turned out to be some sort of fantasy adventure novel - actually really interesting, what with the dire wolves and winter and dragons and stuff; he’d have to borrow it off of North later - a furry ear appeared in his peripheral vision. Frowning and closing the book - marking his place with a finger - he turned to look.

“Hiiii,” Bunny slurred, his front half slumped over the back of the couch, arms dangling next to Jack. “What-cha-do-in?”

He smiled indulgently. “Reading. Weren’t you supposed to be sleeping?”

Bunny hummed for a moment before answering with an emphatic “Yes.”

Jack chuckled. “And why aren’t you?”

The pooka frowned and scrunched up his face for several seconds. “Bored now.”

He laughed this time. Bunny smiled at him dopily the whole time.

“Jack. Jack-jack. Jaaack,” Bunny said and then frowned again. “Why are you named ‘boy’?”

Jack cocked his head. “What do you mean?”

Bunny rose up on his feet and shifted forward so that he flopped even further over the back of the couch, his front sliding down until he was looking at Jack upside down.

“You’re upside down,” he told Jack a moment later. “An-and back home, pooka word for boy-kits was jack.”

“Translated, I assume?” Jack asked. Bunny nodded awkwardly, eliciting a giggle from Jack. “I’m not the one upside down. You are.”

“... I am?” He tried to turn his head. “Oh. So I am.”

Several seconds of flailing and twisting later, Jack suddenly found himself with a lapful of Bunny. The pooka shifted around for a good minute afterwards, seemingly trying to find a good position to lie in, which resulted in his legs dangling over the opposite armrest from where Jack was sitting, and his head cradled in Jack’s lap

He looked up at Jack, a supremely satisfied grin settling over his face. “Hi.”

Jack smiled. “Hi yourself. You know that’s my lap you’re using as a pillow, right?”

Bunny nodded jerkily, still grinning. “Comfy.”

He laughed again. “Alright then. Something you want?”

Bunny hummed, face scrunching up in an expression that Jack associated with a drunk being deep in thought. Jack began petting his head between the ears, which seemed to distract Bunny from his train of thought - not difficult, in Jack’s experience with drunks - who began to purr and wiggle contentedly.

Bunny was just too cute as a drunken overgrown rabbit. He might have to reconsider the resolution to not get him drunk again - though, on second thought, he should probably wait until he finds out what post-drunk-sober Bunny thought of the experience.

Yeah. Probably safest. For Jack’s health.

Jack eventually had to stop scritching - his hand was beginning to cramp - and Bunny immediately whined.

“Sorry, Bun-Bun. My hand’s cramping.”

“... ooookay. Figured out what I want though.”

Jack smiled indulgently down at him. “Oh? What’s that?”

Bunny hummed happily, and grinned at Jack again. “You.”

Mind stuttering to a stop, Jack’s smile fell away in surprise. “Huh?”

Wow Jack. Great response. Stellar. So articulate. Much words.

“I like you.”

“Y-you like me? Like, as a friend?” Jack asked. Bunny frowned. “Right?”

After a moment, Bunny said, slowly, “Yes.”

“Oh, okay. I almost thought-”

Bunny turned his head and nuzzled Jack’s crotch.

“Um…!” was Jack’s succinct reply to the intimate gesture. His cock had other ideas.

_Down boy!_

He glanced back up at Jack and met his eye. “Like that, too.”

Bunny went back to nuzzling Jack’s rapidly-reacting nethers, while his mind spun through several scenarios, all of them ending up with one _all-_ dead Jack, instead of just one _mostly_ -dead Jack - ha! making jokes about himself even when he’s panicking, good show idiot - in the morning.

Gently prying Bunny away from his nuzzling - and resolutely ignoring how much he was enjoying it - he said, “Bunny! I-I don’t want to do something we’d regret in the morning.”

Bunny whined. “But I waaant it.”

“Bunny-”

“Noooow.”

Jack sighed. “No, Bunny. You’re drunk.”

“I can’t get drunk.”

Jack considered his next words carefully. “I... may or may not have accidentally figured out how to get you drunk.”

“... oh. So... I’m drunk?”

Jack nodded. “Yes. Yes, you are.”

Bunny hummed in thought, scrunching his nose up cutely again. “... okay. So no sex tonight?”

Jack spluttered for several seconds. “I- I- ah, that is…”

Bunny nodded as if that was answer to his question. “Okay. Maaaaaaybe… morning sex?”

Phew. Okay. He could work with that; Bunny would be sober in the morning, and Jack could pretend this conversation didn’t happen. “Yes. Absolutely.”

“... one condition.”

Uh oh. “Yes?”

“Sleep with me.”

“Didn’t we just-” Bunny shook his head. “Huh?”

“Want cuddles.”

Oh. _Oooh_. Okay. Jack could… yeah, he could work with that.

“I can work with that.”

Bunny smiled at him, bright and happy.

Yeah, he was so screwed. And not even in the fun way.

  
  


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Jack woke slowly, surrounded by warmth and silky fur, the pale light filtering in through the windows on the far side of the room tickling at his senses.

Wait. Fur?

Jack cracked an eye open and stared uncomprehendingly at a furry shoulder for several seconds, until the night before came trickling back to him.

Right. Bunny had gotten drunk - Jack’s fault - and been drug upstairs - by Jack - and eventually confessed feelings that he couldn’t possibly have while sober - to Jack’s dismay, though he ignored that part of him that was whining about it - and then requested they sleep - platonically, thank goodness; Jack wasn’t about to take advantage of a drunken pooka, no matter how tempting - together.

All-in-all, he was surprised he’d kept his sanity.

One bright green eye cracked open next to him. Jack turned his head slightly; the eye blinked at him several times before focusing on his face. Incongruously, the hint of a smile spread across Bunny’s muzzle.

“Morning, mate.”

Oh good. He didn’t hold anything against Jack-

Bunny shifted slightly, and a hardness pressed into Jack’s side.

\- Correction. He was holding _something_ Jack really, _really_ wanted to see, but was afraid would cost him his friendship for even contemplating, against Jack’s thigh.

Why was Jack cursed so?

“M-morning, Bunny. How are you feeling?”

Smooth Jack. Smooth. Almost no stutter. Keep cool, keep cool…

Bunny’s smiled sharpened. “Pretty good, for someone who was drunk for the first time last night.”

Alarm bells started going off in Jack’s head. He tried to subtly shift away from Bunny in preparation for an escape, but found himself completely pinned down.

He swallowed thickly. “Is- is that so? You remember that?”

Bunny’s grin somehow sharpened further. Worryingly so.

“Mmhmm,” he hummed in affirmation, shifting slightly so that he could raise his head above Jack’s. “I remember something else too.”

Jack’s eyes widened, probably comically, a distant, non-panicky part of his mind supplied. He shooshed it with a vengeance.

“Y-you do?” Bunny nodded. “Anything in particular?”

Bunny nuzzled at Jack’s hair, and whispered in his ear, “You promised me morning sex.”

Jack was pretty sure he couldn’t blush any brighter. “I did? Aha. Ha. Ha. I did, didn’t I?”

Bunny nodded, and nuzzled Jack’s hair again.

“... are you sure you’re not drunk?”

Bunny pulled away and considered him for a moment. “Not in the slightest. Nor was I nearly as drunk as you probably think I was when I propositioned you.”

“W-What?”

“I’ve seen the way you look at me when you think I’m distracted, Jack.”

Jack swallowed thickly again.

“And I think you underestimated my metabolism. I was almost completely sober by the time I propositioned you.”

Jack blinked several times. “Y-you-you… _you pranked me_?”

Bunny shrugged.

Nope, Jack still couldn’t escape. Double damn.

“In a manner of speaking. The offer was genuine.” He smiled fondly, and Jack’s heart skipped a beat. “Though I’m very impressed by your gentlemanly behavior.”

“You… are?”

“Yes, I am. And you deserve a reward for that.”

“I… I do?”

“I also think you deserve punishment for the prank.”

“I… I do?”

“Yes, you do. So here’s what’s going to happen.”

Jack waited, both excited and worried by this turn of events, but mostly just incredibly turned on.

“I am going to get up off the bed. You, as punishment, are going to strip naked and then do my bidding.”

Jack swallowed. “I… wow Bunny, you have no idea how hot that sounds.”

Bunny smirked at him. “Aster, Jack. It’s Aster. Now, as for your reward…”

“... yes?”

“When I am finished serving you your punishment, you can have a turn on top.”

“... oh. _Ooooh!”_

“Do we have a deal?”

Jack took all of two seconds to decided, nodding emphatically. “Yes. Absolutely.” He paused. “One question.”

Bunny - no, Aster - narrowed his eyes. “Yes?”

“What does this make us?”

“I thought it obvious.”

Jack frowned in confusion.

Aster sighed. “I believe the correct human term is ‘boyfriends.’”

“... really?” Jack asked, gaping.

Aster smirked at him. “Yes really.” He sat up and stood. “Now strip.”

Jack grinned happily and bounced up off the bed. “Yes, sir!”

Maybe he should try to get Aster drunk more often?

Good things happened when Aster got drunk.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the curious, Jack picked up a copy of _Game of Thrones_.


	5. Hurt

“Ha!” Jack panted, kicking the wendigo’s rapidly-decaying corpse. “Ha! Suck on that, bastard!”

He kicked it again for good measure, and stumbled for his efforts. He caught himself on his staff. He tried to stand up again, but his right ankle told him quite emphatically ‘no’, if the flash of pain was anything to go by. He glanced down to assess his injuries.

The hoodie was a total loss, more’s the pity - he’d have to find a new one, damn it, or get North to make him one, and he just _knew_ it would be all reds and greens and Christmas and whoa North, that’s too much to wear all year-round - and there was a large gash in his left leg, from jutting hip bone down nearly to his knee. The blood had already frozen over in his version of a scab, so bloodloss wasn’t a factor; he’d need to bandage it to keep his pants from rubbing the wound raw, though, before he fixed the pants. That was always annoying.

He tested his right foot again -

“Ah!”

\- yeah, no, definitely sprained. Well, that was a new one.

He had worse, but that wasn’t the point.

Jack limped over to a stump - poor tree, it hadn’t deserved to be cut down in its prime by the wendigo’s vicious claws - and flopped down on the ground in front of it, leaning against it while he caught his breath.

Five minutes, he told himself, and he’d call the Wind and fly off to… somewhere, to heal.

Five minutes….

  
  


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Aster raced through his tunnels, bounding of rock and root, wall and floor, grumbling all the while about how irresponsible Jack was, and the annoying fact that he was the one _always_ sent to find the brat.

Sure, he was the one with the best tracking magic - his tunnels could find anyone, anywhere, given sufficient time - but _still_.

Jack was late for the meeting.

_Again._

The tunnel took an abrupt turn to the right up ahead; Aster bounced off the wall and rounded the corner, discovering a sharp upwards incline.

_Finally._

He hopped out of the tunnel and back onto the surface a moment later.

He was in a forest clearing. Somewhere up north; the air had a particularly sharp bite to it.

“Correction,” he murmured to himself, drawing his boomerangs. “Not a forest clearing.”

If the destroyed and shredded trees were any indication…

“A battlefield.”

That explained Jack’s tardiness, a small voice in the back of his mind pointed out. He ignored it for now.

Sniffing around, he found Jack’s scent quickly enough and… some _thing_ else.

Fur. Blood. Death. Rot.

His eyes narrowed.

_Wendigo_.

Rounding the edge of a particularly wide tree that seemed to have survived the destruction mostly unscathed - save a few stray claw marks and a smattering of frost - he found the remains of the wendigo.

At least, if that smear of bone, blood, rotting meat, and dirty white-grey fur was any indication. And just beyond that-

“Jack!” he shouted, dropping his boomerangs and rushing to the winter spirit’s side.

He wasn’t conscious. Didn’t look like he was breathing, either - no, wait, just really, really shallow breaths. Aster took quick stock of Jack’s injuries.

Gash, left thigh; hip to knee. Deep, scabbed over.

He ripped open Jack’s hoodie - it was a complete loss anyway, he’d find Jack a new one later if he complained - and found yet more injuries.

Claw marks. Two dozen or so, at a glance. Varying depths, in parallel sets of three. Also scabbed, though as with the thigh wound there was an odd crystalline nature to it…

He touched one cut gingerly with a pawpad. Ah. Frost. Made sense.

Despite the touch, Jack remained unconscious, though a quick check of his pulse - traditionally weak, but this was a new low, even for Jack - indicated he was just deeply asleep.

Probably tired from the blood loss and exertion.

Carefully turning Jack’s head to the side, he found what he’d expected: a large, dark, slightly-bloody lump on the back of his head.

Possible concussion then.

Any more injuries…?

He felt down Jack’s legs-

“Ah!” Jack shouted, shooting awake. “Ow!”

Aster pulled his paw back.

Ankle injury. Judging from the swelling, lack of bone spurs and misshapenness... sprained or strained, not broken. That was something, at least.

Jack blinked at him several times. “Bunny?”

“Yeah, mate. You right?”

“I’m better than the wendigo.” He tried to sit up, and groaned, flopping back down. “Ow.”

Aster frowned. “Back?”

Jack nodded. “Just sore. Stump is a terrible pillow. Leg hurts though.”

“Which one?”

“Both of them. You can see the cut, but I think I sprained my ankle.”

Aster hummed as he retrieved his boomerangs. “What possessed you to fight a wendigo?”

Jack looked at him as if he was the daft one. “It’s kind of my job?”

He knelt down next to Jack’s prone form, considering what would be the best way to move Jack. “You mean how you’re Winter?”

Jack blinked at him. “How’d you know?”

Aster locked eyes with Jack and tapped his temple. “Us seasonals just know, though I expect you don’t recognize the signs, since I suspect you were never trained. I’m the Spring to your Winter.”

He blinked several more times at him, in slowly dawning comprehension. “... oh.”

Aster huffed as he carefully slid his arms beneath Jack, who squawked when he was abruptly, if gently, lifted off the ground. He turned his head to the side after a moment, a faint, embarrassed blush stealing across his face.

“You right, Frostbite? I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Jack shook his head, but didn’t say anything else. Fine. If that’s how he wanted to play it.

“Hang onto my bandolier, mate. It’ll make the trip easier.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Jack did as instructed. Aster tapped out a hole and dropped through, intent on getting Jack back to the Warren as quickly as possible.

Wendigo claws were sometimes infectious, and he’d rather not see Jack become one.

  
  


~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~`~

  
  


“Dingle!” Aster bellowed, kicking the door to his burrow open. “Get your rainbowed-elf-arse out here!”

The elf appeared in a flurry of jingling bells and multicolored flailing. It saluted him.

“Make yourself useful! Go tell North that Jack’s injured, I’m tending to him in the Warren, and to send Phil over with a load of bandages.”

Dingled nodded several times, pirouetted, and vanished in a puff of technicolor smoke.

“Where’d he go?” Jack asked.

“Elves can teleport in emergencies. It’s strange, but useful.”

Aster stepped into the living room and settled Jack on his armless chaise lounge, placing Jack’s staff on the floor next to him, within easy reach. He then stepped into the closet and pulled out a long, low folding table and set it up next to Jack, scooting an ottoman over to act as a seat.

He then retreated to the kitchen to gather all the ingredients he needed to make the poultice for Jack’s wounds that, if he was susceptible to wendigo infection, and if there actually was any in the first place, they’d make sure he didn’t succumb.

Better safe than sorry, he always said.

Phil arrived a short while later, while Aster was in the midst of fashioning the poultice. Perfect timing, really.

“Hey Phil, you can just set the bandages right here,” he said, patting the space on the table he’d left for them. “Thanks mate.”

When Phil reached down to put the bandages where he’d indicated, Aster snatched a handful of fur from his arm. Phil shouted at him, but quieted when Aster simply said, “Wendigo poultice.”

He look from Jack to Aster and back, grunted, and left grumbling something that was probably uncomplimentary about Aster’s parentage.

A stifled giggle drew his attention to Jack. “Wot?”

“You stole some of his hair-”

“Fur.”

Jack waved him off with a weak gesture of his hand. “Why?”

“Wendigo poultice requires yeti fur. I was out of stock.”

“Why are you even making it? I’ve been injured by wendigo before!”

Aster glared at Jack until he subsided. “Then either you’re immune, and this won’t do you no harm, or you’ve gotten lucky, and this’ll save your life. Unless you’d like to turn into a Wendigo within the next… twelve hours?”

Jack swallowed thickly, and shook his head.

Aster nodded sharply. “Right then. That’s sorted. Now let me finish so I can get you healed.”

Jack grumbled something uncomplimentary, but Aster ignored him in favor of getting the recipe correct the first time. He’d hate to have to call Phil back for another fur sample.

Several minutes later, Aster sat back with a sigh. “There, finished. Just need to let it sit for a few, and then I can begin applying it to the cuts. I’ll clean them in the meantime.”

He stepped into the kitchen and got a bowl of warm water and a cloth, returned to Jack’s side and began washing his wounds. After a minute of silence, Jack spoke up softly.

“Why are you doing this?”

He paused in his gentle washing and glanced up. Jack was blushing faintly even as he met Aster’s gaze. “Something wrong with me taking care of my friend?”

“... I didn’t know you thought of me as a friend. I figured….”

Sighing, he set the cloth aside and grasped Jack’s cool hands within his own. “You figured what?”

Jack took a deep breath, and let it out again in a rush, before saying, “I thought you still hated me.” When Aster frowned, Jack clarified, “Sixty-eight.”

“Ah.” He went back to washing Jack’s wounds for a few minutes, thinking over what he could say. He eventually settled on, “I should apologize for that.”

“What?” Jack sounded incredulous. He supposed he had every right to.

He looked up and locked eyes with Jack. “I’m sorry, Jack. I shouldn’t have blown my top at you like I did back then. You were, what, one-fifty?” Jack nodded, with a little shake of his hand to indicate ‘more or less.’ “I should have listened to you, and didn’t, because you were Winter, and I could sense it, and I assumed you were being an ass. Instead, I was.”

Aster went back to washing Jack’s wounds. It wasn’t until he started applying the poultice, that Jack said, softer than before, “Thank you. I’m sorry too.”

He looked up and smiled gently at Jack, before returning to his task. No more words were exchanged until he’d finished wrapping Jack torso.

“Right. I’m going to need to take your pants off.”

Jack’s face flushed a deep crimson, frost skittering across his cheeks. _“What?”_

Aster rolled his eyes. “To tend to your leg wound, and your ankle. And if you’d like those pants to survive another winter, I’ll need to stitch that hole and clean them up.”

The blush only deepened. What was he thinking?

“Oh. Uh, right. Of course. Silly me, thinking-”

Jack’s jaw shut with a loud clack. Aster puzzled over it for a moment, before it clicked in his head. He laughed; Jack glared.

“Frostbite, if I was going to proposition you, it wouldn’t be while I was dressing your wounds. You’re a pretty bloke, I’ll admit, but not enough that I’d lose my head while playing the role of your doctor.”

Jack’s frosty blush skimmed down his chest, following the deepening crimson, but he nodded and moved to stand, using the back of the lounge to support his weight enough that he didn’t need to use his sprained ankle.

When the pants hit the floor, Aster understood why Jack had been initially reticent.

_Jack Frost didn’t wear smallclothes._

Jack turned around and bashfully covered himself. Once he’d settled on the lounge again, Aster dropped a dry cloth over his groin. Jack smiled at him in thanks.

“Don’t really get your human modesty, but I won’t begrudge you it. I revise my earlier statement though.” Jack made an inquisitive noise. Aster grinned at him. “You’re not a pretty bloke; you’re a beaut. I don’t know why I didn’t notice before.”

Apparently, Jack could blush all the way down to his navel. It was kind of adorable.

Silence descended upon them again until he’d finished with Jack’s thigh. Jack hissed a bit as he moved to handle the sprain, though that turned into a sigh as Aster began applying the ointment he’d concocted while he waited for the yeti fur to arrive with the bandages.

Jack broke the silence between them first. “Bunny?”

“Yes, Jack?” he said, not looking up from his work.

“Hypothetically… if one seasonal were to be interested in another, would that be against some sort of rule?”

Aster paused and looked up at Jack. He was blushing again, though his gaze was fixed on some indeterminate spot on the wall. Aster snorted in amusement, and went back to applying the ointment.

“Hypothetically speaking,” he said after a moment’s consideration. “There’s no rule against it, so no. Last I checked, actually, Summer and Autumn were in the middle of some tryst or another with each other, but that was a century back.”

“Oh.”

“Also hypothetically speaking,” Aster continued, glancing up and catching Jack’s eye. “If some wintry seasonal was wondering if his spring-time friend could possibly be interested, the answer would be ‘yes.’”

Jack’s blush deepened again. It was rather adorable, he decided.

“Keep that up, Jackie, and I might have to do something unforgivable.” Jack frowned at him. “Doctor’s shouldn’t fraternize with their patients.”

“Oh.” Jack’s gaze fell.

Aster snorted again, drawing his attention back. “‘Course, I’m only your doctor until you're healed. What happens after you’re healthy is entirely up to you.” He smiled softly. “It’s been yonks, but I wouldn’t mind a roll in the hay or two. Or, if you’re thinking more long-term, that’s fine too.”

Jack smiled at him. “You’re the best, Bunny.”

He reached over and gently ruffled Jack’s hair. “I know, Frostbite. I know.” He stood up. “Now, let’s get that lump on your head tended to. Then I think you should rest.”

Jack favored him with what he’d probably call a ‘puppy dog look’. “Would you stay with me? I’m, ah… feeling a bit cold. I could use a warm… heater.”

Aster quirked an eyebrow. “Be a good boy until bed, and I’ll consider it.”

Jack smiled again. “Deal.”

Taking in Jack’s blossoming hope, Aster allowed that maybe this day wasn’t going to turn out so bad, after all.

 


	6. Happiness

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon the delay; I was gone all day Friday, and Corgi-wife monopolized my time on Saturday. ^_^
> 
> Enjoy!

“ _Frost!”_

At Aster’s shout, Jack skipped back from where he’d been standing next to North and backflipped up into the Workshop’s rafters.

“Get down here! I’ve a bone to pick with you!”

Jack held up his hands, but didn’t come down. “I solemnly swear I’m _not_ up to no good!”

Aster came to a stop next to North, who was looking between them in obvious confusion. “The hell you aren’t!”

“Bunny! What is problem?” North asked, stepping partly between them.

He rounded on North, gesturing wildly at Jack. “He’s the problem! He’s been - he’s been - gah!” Aster threw up his hands in consternation. “What’d the humans call it, when someone's liable to fire a gun with the slightest provocation?”

North considered him for a moment, and then replied, “Trigger-happy. But what does this have to do with Jack?”

Aster pointed and glared at the winter spirit, who was looking decided confused himself, the yobbo.

“He’s gotten trigger-happy with those snowflakes of his, that’s what!”

Slowly-dawning realization began to creep over Jack’s face - finally! - but North was still confused.

“Bunny, calm down,” he said, tapping Bunny on the nose. “Explain.”

It was hard to keep his anger up when his nose was twitching madly; North probably knew that, the bastard. He let it dissipate several degrees with a deep sigh regardless, and reined himself in. If he could get North on his side, then Jack would _have_ to stop.

“Right. So, months ago, I told him to stop hitting me with those happy flakes of his. It was really disconcerting to be randomly euphoric. He said he’d stop, and it seemed like he had for all of a week. But then, whenever he’d visit, I’d suddenly find myself euphoric again!” He started pacing in front of North. “I figure he must’ve gotten sneakier at hitting me with them, because I can’t catch him at it, but he _promised_ to stop!”

“I did!” Jack called down from the rafters. “I really did!”

Aster spun to face Jack. “Codswallop! Bull dust! That’s cock and bull, and you know it!”

Jack shot him a confused look. Aster rolled his eyes and turned to North, who’d cleared his throat for attention.

“I have simple solution, Bunny.” He turned to look up at Jack. “Come down, Jack. We resolve issue easy.”

“But he’ll hit me if I’m on the ground. I just know it!”

“Too right, I’ll job you good!”

North placed a restraining hand on his shoulder. He glared at the offending appendage, but it didn’t budge. Blighter.

“Now, Bunny. No hitting Jack until I ascertain his truthfulness.”

“Hey!” Jack exclaimed, sounding offended. “I’m not lying! And even if I was - which I’m not! - why would you let him hit me?”

“That is not what I said.” North threw up his hands. “Bah! You two are always at loggerheads! Come, Jack! Down from rafters! I shall cast spell! It will show truth of words or no. Easy-peasy, as they say.”

“And he won’t hit me?” Jack called down, watching Aster warily.

He rolled his eyes and settled back on his haunches. “Fine! Fine. But you’d better be ready to run when he proves you’re full of it, Frostbite.”

Jack hopped down and glared at him. “And you’d better be ready to apologize when he proves I’m telling the truth!”

North made a bit of a fuss over getting them to come to his study. He collected a worn, engraved tome off a high shelf, rifled through the pages and slammed it down on a table with an “Aha!” when he found the spell in question.

“Come! Aster, you stand here, on left. Jack, on right. That’s it. Good. Now, just give me moment to…”

North muttered something long and complicated in Russian. His hand began to glow and, before Jack could react, he tapped him on the forehead.

“Hey!”Jack exclaimed, rubbing the spot. “Warning, next time!”

“Is necessary,” North said, shrugging. “Now, Jack. Tell me: did you, or did you not, play snowflake of happiness prank on Bunny after you promised not to?”

Jack looked right at Aster. “I did not.”

The sprite’s body glowed a pale white hue for several seconds, and then the illumination faded.

“Excellent! There is answer, Bunny.”

Aster blinked. “What? That’s it? What does it even mean?” North gazed at him as if he was daft. “What? It’s your spell, ya drongo. Explain.”

North huffed. “Is simple. Red glow means lie, white glow means truth. Jack glowed white.”

“Ha!” Jack cheered, dancing in place. “Told you!”

Aster spluttered. “He- what- nonsense- are you sure?”

“Absolutely. Cross heart. Prepare to die.” North made an x-motion over his heart.

Jack giggled. “The saying is ‘cross my heart and _hope_ to die.’”

North waved Jack off. “Bah. Silly English idiom. You know what I mean.”

“But- I don’t- understand. How- why’m I always happy around Jack then, huh? _Explain that!_ ”

Jack stopped giggling and stared at him, wide-eyed. North was doing likewise.

Aster blinked. “... what? Do I have something on my face?”

Jack continued staring, while North’s expression cleared, only to be replaced by a shrewd glance. “Question, Bunny.”

He rolled his eyes. “Wot?”

“You say you are happy when Jack is around?”

“Yes. It’s getting bothersome.”

“Would you also say you are happy when Jack is not around?”

“Well. Yeah, I guess. I mean, I-”

“In those times you are happy, have you perhaps thought of Jack recently?”

“I- no?” He paused, and thought about it.

Jack was glancing back and forth between him and North with dawning comprehension written plainly on his face.

Aster blinked several times. “Huh. I- guess? Maybe?”

North reached over with both of his over-large hands and settled them on Aster’s shoulders, forcing him to look North in the eye.

“Bunny. I have news for you.” He cleared his throat. “You have crush on Jack.”

Aster fell backwards out of North’s grip in his recoil and landed on his arse on the hardwood floor. “What? No! Don’t be silly, I-”

His brain helpfully supplied several examples that proved North’s point rather more than adequately.

He gasped, “Fuck me. I _do_ have a crush on the blighter.”

A matching, very Jack-like gasp brought him back to the immediate reality.

Well, crap-on-a-stick. He’d said that out loud, and in front of Jack, no less.

Aster warily looked up at Jack, expecting annoyance, anger, disgust… anything but what he found there.

Surprised joy, and rising hope.

Well. What’d’ya know.

His expression softened into a faint smile.

“I,” he declared, taking North’s offered hand and standing, his other paw going to rub at his sore arse. “Am an idiot.”

North laughed. “You two have much to talk about.” He stepped around Jack and started heading for the door to the study. “I shall close door, and you two shall talk, yes? Увидимся позже!”

The door closed with a final-sounding click, which echoed loudly in the suddenly silent room.

Aster shifted awkwardly from foot to foot for several seconds. “So…” he began, trailing off uncertainly and glancing at Jack’s expression again.

He looked like the cat that had got the cream, which was… a really distracting expression on Jack’s pretty face, and so Aster was entirely justified in honking when Jack leapt across the table and they landed with Jack sprawled atop him.

“Ow. My arse is sore, you know,” he chided.

Jack laughed, a low, dark sound that triggered butterflies in Aster’s stomach, and waggled his eyebrows. “I can think of other ways to make your ass sore.”

Aster felt his face heating up, and was glad for his fur, though he couldn’t stop the ear droop.

Jack giggled. “Wow, Cottontail. You’re nose even changed color a little.”

_Damn._

Jack grew serious. “But no, seriously? I’ve been trying to figure out a way to tell you I liked you for ages. It just… never was the right time. And you were always so grumpy when I visited.”

Aster cleared his throat. “Well, I was getting annoyed at you because I thought you were still hitting me with those flakes of yours, and at myself for not catching you at it. And now I feel a right idiot, for not seeing the signs.”

Jack tapped him on the nose. “Well, as they say, hindsight is twenty/twenty.” He hopped up and offered Aster a hand. “So Bunny. Whatcha say to us going back to your place, and having a friendly… discussion. About the nature of our relationship.”

He took the proffered hand and stood up again. “Sounds like a plan.”

Jack plastered himself to Aster’s chest, and began rubbing slow circles on his chest. “Ooo, muscles. And perhaps, if things work out, we can have a… _different_ kind of fun. One involving less snow and less clothing.”

Jack grin was dark and feral, and Aster was suddenly more turned-on than he’d ever been in his life.

“M’sorry for assuming you’d break your promise, Jackie.”

The brat’s grin turned cheeky. “That’s okay. I plan to make you pay for it later.” He spun around and made for the door, glancing over his shoulder and shooting Aster a heated gaze when he got there. “After all, I _did_ say I could think of _other_ ways to make your ass sore.”

Aster shuddered involuntarily. When did Jack get so cocky and confident?

“Coming, Cottontail?”

“You bet your arse, Frostbite.”

Jack laughed as they left the study. “No, Bun-Bun. I bet _yours_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Увидимся позже! - See you later!


End file.
